Dreams of Brazil
by OrangeSnapdragon
Summary: After the defeat of Voldemort, Harry has taken to sleeping with Malfoy and dreaming some pretty odd stuff. Very mild HPDM slash. Oneshot.


Disclaimer: Don't own Harry potter. Property of JKR and WB. Don't sue. Enjoy the fic.

Sitting in his room, the moon had come and set long ago, Harry stared at himself in the mirror. He was pale and peaky with too-dark circles under his eyes. He hadn't been sleeping well lately, no, not at all. The dreams of sibilant voices and green flashes and screaming people were still there, remnants of that final desperate battle. Harry gave an involuntary shudder. But there were other dreams as well now. Dark tendrils streaming from his subconscious bearing half memories and wishes and escape.

_(Green plants, warm and humid, tall, strange brown skinned people, and a different sibilant voice hissing out of his childhood, "Brazil here I come.")_

Bred in captivity, Harry gave a crooked grin, didn't that describe him well? First the Dursleys, then Hogwarts, and now a prisoner of politics and the press. Never a free moment for Harry Potter the Hero. No, saviors didn't need privacy. Harry had speeches to give, stores to reopen, a world to rebuild. It was a wonder Harry was able to sneak Draco into his room every night.

Defeat Voldemort, get a nice job, get married, have kids, grow fat and old and happy. That was the plan right? But then Hermione had shown up with her arms full of books and her sighs and her lists of casualties and costs.

"_Look here Harry. We need to fix this."_

And she was right. Someone had to fix it, and he was the best one for it really. An excellent figurehead. Who knew figureheads had so many duties?

Not that he blamed Hermione. She was under more pressure than he was really. He didn't sleep because of dreams, she didn't sleep because of work. Ron helped, but that wasn't his thing- the paperwork and planning and politics. No, Ron was more a people person. He was excellent- going out and talking to the still half-terrified wizarding population. Finding out what they needed, wanted, dreamed of- sending back report after report to Harry and Hermione from all over Britain. Harry couldn't remember the last time Ron had spent a night in the same place. He was almost as exhausted as Harry and Hermione were.

So Harry didn't blame them, they were far too busy to see that he was going insane. Well, he was pretty sure he was going insane. Could you be going insane if you thought you were? Wasn't there a Muggle book like that? Catch 42 or something?

Beside the point really.

Harry stared at his reflection harder, as if the force of his gaze could drive away his demons, his madness, those two hissing voices that twined in out of memory and sleep. Sweat shone faintly on his forehead and his eyes looked scared and lost and wide. For a moment he thought of how Ron and Hermione would react if he told them he was going crazy.

Hermione's face and voice loomed up in his mind, snappy and peevish. Her expression one of harried concern, "_Really Harry, I'm sure it's nothing. It's just the stress and all the emotion from finally defeating Voldemort Perfectly normal reaction. Take a short holiday, I'm sure we could carry on without you for a few days."_

And her brown eyes would go wide and terrified like they always did with her false bravado because really she'd be thinking, '_No Harry, don't do this. You can't leave not now. Not now. Please.'_

Though a holiday. That was an excellent idea.

_(Sweat drops swelling and breaking and sliding down the skin. Gray-bellied clouds, but still hot and bright and humid, like swimming in air. Mad music, mad dancing, mad magic. Tattoos and green sparks. Snakes and trees and high arched mountains. Brazil. Bred in captivity. Brazil.)_

Harry shut the thought down and up swam Ron, looking slightly perplexed. Slightly disbelieving, bracing, and very worried. "_Crazy? I dunno Harry… I mean, if you were gonna go mad you would have done it years ago, right? I dunno Harry, maybe you should get checked out at St. Mungo's."_

Harry grinned. Good ol' Ron. Draco murmured and turned over in his sleep, probably clutching at the bed sheets at he did so. The sneaky, cover thieving bastard.

Then as if one redhead had conjured the other, Ginny flamed up. A memory this time, her face angry ad shocked and so very, very betrayed. "_You're a whore, Harry Potter. Nothing but a filthy, cheating man-whore." _Her entire body shaking and voice a sea of sobs; cresting and breaking and endless.

Still she hadn't told anyone. She still had that much respect left for him. Not that he deserved it. He tore himself away from the mirror, no longer willing to look at himself. What an ass he was. He tried to tell himself it had been stress and convenience and that he hadn't seen Gnny in three months. Three months! He tried to tell himself that it was all Draco's fault. Draco who was a conniving, seducing minx who looked divine when debauched. But no, no, that wasn't true.

Harry was a prick Plain and simple. He sighed, placed his head into his hands. Though, it wasn't like he and Ginny hadn't already been careening towards a break up. There really had been too much pressure. Everyone's favorite celebrity couple. Something sharp and bitter broke inside him.

"What are you sighing about O Boy-Who-Scored?' asked a sleepy and indignant voice.

Harry glanced at Draco, lying flushed and entangled in their sheets, with half-lidded amusement. "I was just reflecting on my poor choice of bed-partners."

Draco sneered at him, too secure in his sexual prowess to feel offended. "I'll have you know Potter there's many a pretty girl and more than a few men who would be more than willing to have a little roll in the hay with me."

"Roll in the hay? Isn't that a little plebian of you? A Malfoy like you should at least get their gimmees in a four-star hotel in sheets of Egyptian cotton."

Draco rolled his eyes. "It's an expression Potter, you over literal git. Besides, if I was picky about my sleeping conditions, I wouldn't be here in this rat nest you call a home. You're the bloody savior of the bloody wizarding world, you can bloody well afford a better place than this."

"I like to keep things Spartan," Harry informed Draco coolly.

The blonde grinned wickedly. "That's not the only thing you like to keep Spartan," he shot with a lecherous wink,

Harry gave a weak chuckle and backed the conversation up a step. "So tell me Malfoy, why would you, who could undoubtedly have any two-legged creature, and probably several four legged ones, you wanted in any variety of charming and expensive bordello designed for this kind of thing, choose me and my- ratnest I believe you called it?"

Draco, who had gotten out of bed sometime during Harry's monologue leaned over the seated man and fluttered his eyelashes lasciviously. "It must be," he purred, "this delightful sexual tension the two of us have cultivated since first year," and he bit Harry's ear.

Harry, in spite of himself, laughed. "You're horrible."

"And yet you insist on sleeping with me," replied Draco, sitting back down on the bed with a long-drawn sigh.

"It must be the money," said Harry with a thoughtful air, "because it certainly isn't your good looks."

Harry yelped and slapped at a sudden stinging in the back of his neck. "Son of a-" He glared at Draco who was stroking his wand with a malicious grin.

"Wordless magic is such a blessing," he said fervently.

Harry gave a sneering grin, "You were always good at wand handling."

Draco flushed but otherwise retained his expression of sultry indifference, "And you were always very good at riding a stick."

Now it was Harry's turn to flush. "Cheap shot," he muttered,

Draco raised a pale eyebrow and yawned, reclining back. "And yours wasn't?"

Harry smiled sheepishly. Then, a sudden inspiration struck him. He pounced onto the bed, landing so that his face was inches away from Draco's. "Come to Brazil with me," he whispered.

_(Green, green, everything green. Laughter calling out from among the trees. Giant flowers. Bright birds, swooping and cawing. A cacophony of little noises.)_

Draco stared up at Harry, little perturbed by Harry's sudden movement. "Brazil? Potter, you're a bloody loon."

"And yet you insist on sleeping with me." Harry grinned, mimicking Draco's words.

"Well, unlike you, I am not a money-grubbing whore. I actually care for you." Draco closed his eyes and let out a hurt sigh. "I am such a martyr."

Harry tickled the other man's nose. "You know I love you," he cooed.

Draco's eyes shot open. He looked wary and suddenly awkward. But the expression disappeared as soon as it had come, not that Harry noticed. "Harry Poofter," he teased.

"Don't you know it," replied Harry solemnly.

Draco smirked, but before he could say anything in answer, Harry broke into his thoughts, "So you'll come?"

"I'll always come for you Harry-darling." Draco answered angelically.

Harry turned a very bright, very delicious shade of pink. "That's not what I meant!" His voice had risen at least an octave.

Draco giggled like a naughty schoolboy, which, but for about a year, he was. "Oh, but it's so much fun twisting your words."

Harry scowled at him. "Incorrigible pureblood prat."

"Scrawny hypocritical halfblood."

Harry ignored Draco's remark. "So you'll come?"

"Pah-tur," sighed Draco, "We've been over this, I-"

"Mah-foi, I'm being serious. Come with me to Brazil."

Draco twisted his lips and stared up at Harry, at his hopeful eyes and lopsided grin.

Remembered a time not so long ago when he would have squashed such an expression with pleasure, even now he could still feel some of the old desire rising with him. Though, now it had to contend with a much stronger, much more primal desire. He smirked to himself. How things change. He squeezed his eyes shut then opened them, peering perplexedly at the taller man.

"Why?" he demanded.

Harry hesitated, looked away, then broke under Draco's cool gaze. "I've been having. . .dreams."

"Dreams," Draco repeated. "About Brazil?"

Harry nodded and looked tight-lipped. "Yeah."

"But…" Draco faltered, "But… Brazil, why Brazil? I mean, even accepting that you'vesomehow turned into a seer, what do you expect to find in Brazil?"

_(Shining cities with urban magic. Pupil-dark rainforests with magic rites beneath the moon. A snake. "Brazil here I come." Freedom. Spontaneity. Adventure.)_

"Closure," he said finally, avoiding Draco's eyes.

"Closure? In Brazil?" Draco looked skeptical.

Harry leaned downed, squinched up his eyes, and buried his face into Draco's bare chest. "Yes. . . Please."

Almost absentmindedly Draco stroked Harry's hair. Brazil, eh? He'd always had a hankering to see the Americas. Maybe he could drag Harry up to New York afterwards. . .

"Alright Potter, I'll go traipsing off to Brazil with you. Who knows, it might even be fun. But you do know," and his mouth twisted into a smile, "that this means you owe me a lifetime of sexual favors."

A huff of breath shivering up Draco's stomach and sending a pleasing shudder down his spine let Draco know Harry was laughing, "I know," the dark-haired man said, and then, almost inaudible, "Thank you."

"You're welcome Potter, though in truth the only reason I'm willing to go on this absurd exercise in insanity is because I can't bear the thought of being away from you and you're 'broomstick riding', to put it delicately, for any unknown amount of time."

There was a short chuckle, but already Harry was drifting off into sleep. Draco winced and shifted slightly, Harry's spectacles were sticking into his ribcage at an awkward angle. He stared up at the ceiling. "Brazil," he mused, tasting the word on his lips. "Brazil."

_(Ancient spells. Blood and sex and magic and gold. The New World. The Promised Land. Secrets, family. . . a beginning.)_

A note left on a door. "Will be back soon. The world will continue without me. All my love, HP"

A brown-haired young woman shaking her head but suppressing a smile, "Why did I know you were going to do something like this?"

Yes, the world could go on without him, but only for a little bit. He needed the break, but all the same, "Come back soon Harry."

Two men, sitting on a plane. Both for the first time. The fair haired one pale and terrified and clutching at the arms' rest. "If I die Potter…" a half finished warning,

The dark haired one unsympathetic, laughing his guilt away.

Sunrise over the Amazon.

_(Always a sunrise. Never a sunset. Brazil.)_

AN: Yes, I'm being deliberately vague and ominous-y. I hope you enjoyed anyway, review if you like. I find it ironic that my first finished HP fanfic centers on a pairing I don't even read, let alone particularly like. But such is life and the wild wiles of the rabid plot-bunny. Later loves.


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